


Eves

by zeldasayre



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: :), Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, OH don't worry about Liam and Louis that's just a plot thing, Starts on Louis's birthday ends on New Year's Eve, happy holidays, i guess, uhhh, what else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldasayre/pseuds/zeldasayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is home for the holidays and isn't sure whether it's appropriate to wish Louis, his best friend's ex-boyfriend, a happy birthday.<br/>But one text couldn't hurt anybody, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eves

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY I FINISHED THIS THE DAY AFTER NEW YEAR'S  
> im a doof.

_happy birthday_

  
I stared at it for a while, and at the send button, blue and beckoning beside it. It’s not like it was much, crossing any lines or pushing any limits. But maybe contacting him at all wasn’t… appropriate. People do that though, right? They wish happy birthday to anyone, weird relationship or not. It’s just polite, right?

But then I thought what if Liam were to look at my phone and see it, would he be upset? I couldn’t be sure, it wasn’t like we’d ever explicitly discussed this. Liam probably figured it wasn’t necessary. If Louis and I had become best friends when they’d dated, or if we’d all been friends before, that’d be one thing. But Louis and I were never more than friendly. We got along well, though, really well, I’d say. It was easy between us, I never felt awkward, talking with him while Liam was otherwise occupied. We might have become close if we’d all gone to the same high school, but as it was even his and Liam’s relationship was strained by our different schedules, and living on opposite sides of town.

So Liam had never told me whether it’d be alright for me to keep in contact with his ex. If it’d been a clean breakup I wouldn’t have worried about it at all. But it wasn’t. Liam never really told me what happened with them, not in full. From what he did say, I’d guessed Louis had cheated.

Which, even in a high school relationship which inevitably would have had to end soon after, as we’d all be off to uni after the summer ended, is awful, I know. But Liam never confirmed that that’s what happened, and I sort of couldn’t see it of Louis, or if he had, I imagined he’d have felt terrible about it, or have done it because he didn’t know how else to end things. I don’t know. Louis was just nice, a really good lad. I somehow couldn’t find it in myself to hold it against him.

So I sat there with my thumb over the send button for a long while.

And then I started overthinking it even further. Should I add punctuation? Or a smiley face? Would it come off curt or rude or just bizarre, sitting all alone there, like a pair of socks as a gift?

Was it weird or bad that I even remembered his birthday? I mean, sure, Christmas Eve is pretty memorable as a birthday, but maybe he’d think it was weird that I even thought of him at such a busy time of year, when we hadn’t talked in months, and weren’t particularly close even then. And when, of course, our last interaction had happened before he broke my best friend’s heart.

I felt stupid and silly, thinking so much about such a little thing, such a simple gesture, so I sighed, shaking my head at myself, and pressed send without looking. I dropped the phone on my bed as I ran a hand through my hair and stood up and away from it, heading out toward the kitchen.

“Harry,” my mum said, seeing me, “help your sister bring the gifts to the car, alright? The Paynes are expecting us in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, mum,” I agreed, my stomach twisting slightly at the thought of seeing Liam, now.

Maybe I’d just leave my phone here.

*  
Harry Styles texted me.

I’d imagined it, of course. That maybe we’d bump into each other at the grocery store or in line for coffee at Brinker’s. Maybe we’d attend the same party thrown by former classmates of his or mine or both of ours.

But I didn’t think he’d contact me himself.

It wasn’t like it was even much of a text. The lack of punctuation didn’t suggest any desire to initiate a conversation, and, yea, he had remembered my birthday, but my birthday was Christmas Eve, so that wasn’t any spectacular accomplishment.

The last text I’d received from him was on the ninth of July, probably about a week before I called things off with Liam. He’d sent me a selfie with his cat, no text or explanation of any sort tacked on. I hadn’t responded.

I _had_ , however, struggled acutely not to make it my phone background.

I stared at that _happy birthday_ and felt distinctly and incredibly annoyed with myself. I was annoyed because it was ex-boyfriend’s best friend, and I should be confused as to why he’d be texting me, not excited. I was annoyed because I’d hoped we would somehow talk over this break. I was annoyed because, staring at those two words, so impersonal and unenthusiastic, my heart was pounding in my chest like heavy fists on a wooden door.

It wasn’t like I’d thought about him every day I was away. Uni is distracting, after all. And the longer I told myself I didn’t have a thing for him, that I’d never had a thing for him, the closer I got to believing it.

But now, staring at my phone, all I could think about was being in Harry’s basement-turned-bedroom, watching reruns of Leave it to Beaver with Liam’s arms around my chest, staring through my peripheral vision at Harry’s long curls where they fell against his pillows, the movement of his arm and the stretching of his muscles as he picked at a lint ball on his sheets or ran a spindly-fingered hand through his hair.

“I didn’t… cheat on you,” I’d said to Liam, my voice wavering and unsure, as if I wasn’t positive it was true.

“It doesn’t matter, Louis,” he said. “What you– it’s– it’s kind of worse.”

I should’ve broken things off with Liam as soon as I saw Harry. I know I should have. It took barely a glance for me to realize the thing that’d made me say yes to Liam wasn’t what it was supposed to be. I liked Liam, he was sweet and handsome and confident. I liked that he liked me. Growing up in a relatively small town, even as liberal as ours was, I didn’t know many queer guys, I didn’t get many “can I have your number”s.

But I wasn’t attracted to him, and I realized it the moment I saw Harry, the moment I took him in like an IV. It’d been a while, I’d almost forgotten what it felt like. It’s hard to find yourself particularly attracted to anyone when so much time goes by without anyone returning the sentiment. But looking at Harry I was on fire, every inch of my skin hot and buzzing and damp.

Maybe I _would_ have dumped Liam on the spot if Harry hadn’t have been his best friend.

 _thank you,_ I responded automatically.

Then I stared at my phone and fought not to groan. That would be it, then. He had no reason to speak to me any further.

Desperately, I added, _u in town?_  
I worried my lip between my teeth and fell back onto my bed. That was stupid. Why did I say that? He didn’t want to talk to me, he didn’t want to see me. I’d dumped his best friend. Oh, bollocks– what if Liam had told him why we’d broken up? Why wouldn’t he? They’re best friends. But then, why would Harry have texted me if he knew? That would be a bit strange, wouldn’t it?

My phone buzzed again, and I shot up and grabbed it.

_I am!_

That was it, for a moment, and I stared at the exclamation point until he added, _you?_

 _yes_ , I said, and then growled low in my throat because, honestly, why couldn’t I carry out a simple conversation like a normal human being?

He didn’t respond immediately, because, of course, what would he possibly say to that? So I chewed on my lower lip, my fingers over the keypad, and then typed, hurriedly so I wouldn’t overthink it, because that was going so well for me thus far, _u going to Niall’s for Boxing Day?_

*

I’d gotten the Facebook invite to Niall’s, but I hadn’t seriously considered going until I received that text. Niall was great, but I’d rather have him over to mine or meet up with him at Brinker’s than attend one of his legendary parties. And yet I answered Louis, _yea!_ and then immediately cursed myself for the use of another exclamation mark.

“Who’re you texting?” Liam asked.

I felt my face flush and my heart pound in my chest with guilt. But I hadn't _really_ done anything wrong, right? Louis was the one who asked if I was in town, and if I was going to Niall’s. I’d just responded. As was polite.

And initiated the conversation. And said I _was_ going to Niall’s even though I originally _wasn’t_. And used more than one exclamation mark.

“Um,” I said.

“Harry,” Gemma waved me over, and I shot up hurriedly so I wouldn’t have to answer Liam. I definitely should have left my phone at home.

*

Christmas morning I woke up with a jolt and a gasp as Lottie threw herself onto my stomach.

“Christmas, Louis! Christmas!”

I slid out of bed and into my slippers and followed her into the living room, where the rest of my siblings and my mother were already around the tree.

I spent the whole day glancing and glancing again at my phone. It was stupid, for one thing because Harry had already confirmed that I’d see him tomorrow, and for another because I shouldn’t be so worked up over Harry at all. I’d told myself I was over him. I was never supposed to be into him in the first place.

Eventually, I caved and texted him _Happy Christmas!_

The exclamation mark felt appropriate.

He didn’t respond for a while, and when he did it was only with a smiley and a Christmas tree emoji.

 _Not yours,_ I reminded myself. _He’s not yours._

*

Niall’s was crowded already, even at only nine PM. I supposed any excuse to get out of post-Christmas cleaning would be taken as quickly as possible.

Niall greeted me warmly and handed me a red Solo cup of egg nog, making me laugh and then disappearing again into the throng. Before I even realized I was doing it, I scanned the room for a brown fringe, a short frame, and a pair of eyes of bird’s-egg-blue. What ended up catching my gaze was a jean jacket. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. So in attire, at least, he hadn’t changed.

“Louis,” I said, touching his shoulder with my free hand. He turned to me and I remembered the first time I met him, the first time I saw him like I was seeing him now. My mind had gone blank for a second, sucking in the sight of him as if it could replace all prior knowledge it had once held with just that, and when I came to I scrambled to remember what Liam had just said. “This is Louis,” I recalled, “my boyfriend.”

Liam’s boyfriend. That’s right. This one was beyond off-limits.

I’d immediately thought of him as such, tucked the sight of him and the smell of him and the feel of his palm against mine as we shook hands into the part of my mind where you put things you’ll only dream about against your will, because you know it isn’t right.

Sometimes he might’ve slipped out for a moment, when he wore those sleeveless and sideless shirts that revealed his whole bicep and sometimes slid a bit too far so I could see some of his chest, and the tattoos peeking out. Or when he gave me this look, his eyes all squeezed tight and smiling, his mouth open a bit as he tilted his head to one side or the other or back a bit. Or when he teased me for talking nonsense, or poked at my sides with his pretty little hands, or pushed his fringe out of his eyes, or put his hand on the small of my back when we were leaving or entering someplace, or when I sometimes thought I’d caught him staring at me when on his other side Liam was staring at him.

Sometimes. But. I did… my best.

“Haz,” he said now.

He’d picked it up from a Starbucks barista’s misspelling one day when we were waiting for Liam to get out of football practice. It’d stuck, but, thinking back on it now, I think he may have only ever called me the nickname when Liam wasn’t present.

I tried not to think too hard about that as I smiled at him in response.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, clearing his throat and pushing his fringe out of his eyes, my hands clamming up as my tongue darted out to hurriedly lick my lips.

“You, too,” I agreed. “How’s, um, how’s uni?”

“Great, great,” he said, nodding, “You?”

“Yea,” I said, “great.”

He nodded again.

“I–” I started, and then cut myself off because I didn’t know what I’d meant to say.

He stared at me for a moment, his lips parting slightly and his gaze darting all over me, one moment on my eyes, the next lower on my face, then to my legs, perhaps the rip in the knee of my black skinnies, and my chest, probably to the swallows I’d had tattooed three weeks into first semester, perfectly visible in my nearly wide-open silk button down.

“How’s Liam?” he asked, his voice occurring to me as dusty, like an old biography on an office book shelf. Then, tacked on, “You two still close?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, my stomach sinking, guilt chewing at me again like the well-meaning but nonetheless painful bites of a puppy. “Very close, yea. He’s great. He’s doing great. Seeing a girl now, actually, I think. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“I always did think bisexual made more sense for him,” Louis said with a grin. So he wasn’t jealous, then.

And why should he be, right? I mean, yea, he’d dumped Liam, (my best friend,) not the other way around. But it’d also been months. He was over it. They must both be over it. It didn’t matter anymore to either of them, right? So Liam wouldn’t care that I was here, talking to Louis. That I hadn’t told him I’d be going to this party even though he was always trying to get me to go out with him. He had a new love now, a girl, and he wasn’t thinking about Louis. He wouldn’t care.

Every thing I told myself made me feel worse.

“Um,” I said. “If you’ll excuse me, I, uh, should say hi to the host.”

“Oh,” Louis said, the smile dropping from his face as I turned away. “Uh, I, uh– of course.”

I searched through the crowd until I found Niall again, then grabbed his arm and dragged him into his bathroom.

“What’s up, mate?” he asked, laughing.

“Niall,” I said. “I have a dumb question.”

“I’m great at dumb questions.”

“Right,” I said. “Ok.”

He quirked an eyebrow, curious.

“Say you dated someone,” I said.

“A definite possibility.”

“And say that someone dumped you.”

“Also a definite possibility.”

“But say it’s been months since that happened. And you’ve moved on. You’re dating a new someone. Even a new someone of a different sex than the first someone.”

“This is getting somewhat convoluted for a hypothetical, mate.”

“Ok, sorry, but just… if your best friend were to contact that first someone, now… would you be upset?”

Niall’s brows drew together in confusion. “By ‘contact’ do you mean ‘sleep with’?”

“No!” I said. “No, no, just– just a hello.”

“You had me at–”

I cut him off, obviously, “Seriously, Niall.”

“‘Course not,” he said. “Why would that upset me? I’m a reasonable lad, I like to think. I’m not about to get my knickers in a twist about a simple hello.”

I nodded, relieved, and then my eyebrows, too, drew together. “And if…” I trailed off. I cleared my throat. “If the other thing…”

“Mate, no one likes when anyone sleeps with their ex. Best friends, especially. But in my book, personally, the past is the past, do ya know what I mean?”

I nodded.

“I say go for Louis, Harry. He’s always had his eye on you, just ask around and anyone’ll confirm.”

“Niall!” I gaped at him. “I– I didn’t say it was about–”

“I’ve put up some mistletoe in the living room, ya know,” he said. He winked at me as he inched, backward, towards the door. “I’m just sayin’.”

I continued to gape at him as he disappeared back into the masses.

I swallowed hard and headed out after him, pausing a moment before scanning the crowd again for Louis.

So it was fine, then. It was probably just fine. Liam wouldn’t be hurt, or too hurt. It was not a big deal.

I would still _not_ be going near the mistletoe.

*

His hair was longer.

It’d been long, already, but now it reached his shoulders.

He was so beautiful. It wasn’t fair.

He was gone too soon, turning from me to go find Niall. I wanted to reach out, grab the back of his flimsy, open shirt, and pull him back. I wanted to shove him to the floor, climb on top of him, and pull that ridiculously long hair as I licked down the length of his chest.

I took in a shaky breath and turned back to Andy, who was still carrying on about skiing in Germany.

He was here. He talked to me. He sought _me_ out, or at least didn’t hesitate to grab my attention when he happened to stumble upon me.

I don’t know why I asked about Liam. It felt like it would be wrong not to, like he’d catch on, realize how hopelessly gone for him I was, if I didn’t mention the person we had in common.

This was so bad. I’d built up a resistance, before. Now it’d been months since I’d last seen him, and the resistance was gone, as was the reason it needed to be there at all. Liam and I weren’t together anymore. Liam was with someone else, apparently. I could touch Harry. I could try.

Except that I couldn’t, obviously. Because it didn’t matter if Liam and I weren’t together anymore. We _were_. We dated for months, and Harry was his best friend, then and now. No one dates their best friend’s ex.

Besides, he probably wasn’t even interested in me. People like Harry can and do get anyone they want.

I definitely needed another drink.

*

I didn’t seek him out immediately. Or, I didn’t seek him out immediately _again_. I drank the egg nog Niall had handed me and then another cup and then a few beers. I ate my body’s weight in crisps and snowman-shaped biscuits. I talked to Niall and the girls that surrounded him, I talked to some people from high school I’d been friendly with, I talked to a girl I’d hooked up with in the ninth grade who’d buzzed her head and was now dating someone called Miranda. My voice was starting to sound slurred to my ears, and in that voice I heard myself ask her how she felt about dating friends’ exes.

“Well, it’s a bit different for me,” she said. “If lesbians didn’t date their friends’ exes, there’d be no one to date.”

I laughed and then nodded, realization coming over me. “That’s true!” I said. “That’s true for boys, too! There’s only, like, four gay guys in this whole town.”

“Aren’t you bi?”

“What? Oh, yea, I guess.”

She laughed at me and ruffled my hair affectionately.

I found him sitting on an ottoman in front of the fireplace, his beanie in his hand, messing with his hair and glancing at his phone.

“Hey,” I said.

He looked up at me and beamed. “Hey, stranger.”

I sat down beside him, realizing too late that ottoman’s aren’t really built to accommodate multiple passengers.

I told Louis as much.

“Passengers?” he asked, laughing. He rose a brow at me. “A bit tipsy there, Styles?”

“Um, no.” I shook my head. I smiled at him, “Maybe a tiny. Little bit.”

He grinned.

I reached out without quite registering what I was doing and put a hand in his hair.

His eyes widened enormously and he went completely still.

If I’d been sober I’m quite sure that would’ve made me still, as well, and drop my hand immediately. As it was, I raked my fingers through his hair and sighed. “Soft,” I said.

He took a breath in, slow and ragged.

I was lucid enough to know something was off about this situation, so I tried to counter the weirdness with something normal. “How’s uni?” I asked, one finger catching behind his ear as my hand tried to tug at his fringe and slipped.

He shuddered under me, and that made me smile, for some reason totally beyond me.

“Um,” he said, “Uni’s good.” He glanced over at me. A little grin snuck onto his face, even as his eyes remained wide, unsettled. “You already asked me that, Haz.”

“I did?”

“Earlier.”

“Earlier?” I repeated, like this was a completely foreign concept.

He laughed and shook his head. He moved his hand up like he was going to push me away from his hair, then dropped it to his lap and sighed. Resigned.

I frowned. That didn’t seem right.

I dropped my hand of my own accord and straightened my shoulders.

He was stiff beside me, uncomfortable.

“I made you uncomfortable,” I acknowledged.

“No!” he said. “No, Harry, it’s fine.” He smiled at me, then drew his brows together.

“What’s wrong, Lou?” I asked. He shook his head. I tried to think of what could be wrong. Then I said, “You miss Liam?”

“Um,” he said, laughing, an unpleasant laugh, “uh, no, sorry. Not really.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t either. We sat there for a while, me confused and him quiet, and then I sighed and said, “Can I touch your hair again?”

His whole body shuddered, abruptly, and he turned to me, his eyes big and confused and something else I didn’t understand. “Yea,” he said, “yea, uh huh. Sure.”

I smiled and did so.

*

He left soon after, Niall finding him asleep on my shoulder and laughing, “Guess I should get this little one home, then, huh?” He shook his head. “Never could hold a drink well.”

I stayed a little while longer to make it look like maybe I had any reason to be at this party besides seeing him. Then I walked home– I lived close by, just a couple streets down. The whole time I kept touching my hair, the ghost of Harry’s hands still burning my scalp. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t gather my thoughts into anything coherent, and I’d barely finished a single cup of egg nog.

It felt like I’d made the whole thing up. But maybe it just wasn’t that big of a deal. Harry was drunk. Maybe he was just an affectionate drunk, a touchy drunk. I wouldn’t know. Liam and I had never been the party-attending type of couple.

I groaned and ran a hand through my hair right where Harry had as I turned up my driveway. When I closed the front door behind me, Lottie looked up at me from her spot on the living room couch. She rose a brow at me. “You’re home early.”

“It’s not that early.”

“It’s not that late.”

I ignored her and went up the stairs to my room. I fell onto my bed and turned off my phone. Harry might drunk-text me. That could happen.

I did not foresee myself dealing with that well, at the moment.

*  
Niall called me far too early and asked me out to Brinker’s. I accepted, annoyed as I was with the unwanted wake up call. I had a slight headache, but nothing Aspirin couldn’t fix. Coffee sounded perfect.

I dressed in a soft tee and a long pea coat, warm socks on under my heeled boots. The weather forecast swore it would snow soon, but it was barely drizzling when I looked outside, so I pulled my hair up in a bun and called goodbye to my mum as I headed out.

Niall had ordered for me already when I arrived, so I accepted the drink he handed me with a bright smile and a “thanks, love.”

“So I saw you took my advice last night,” he said, pulling out a chair across from me at a little table near the window.

I groaned.

He laughed. “You and Louis looked _very_ cozy. Like something out of a Hallmark film, really.”

“Please stop,” I begged.

He sniggered, taking a long pull of his drink.

“I don’t… I must have made… ah, man. That must have been so awkward for him. I don’t know.” I groaned again and buried my face in my hands.

“You like him, then?” Niall asked.

I only groaned louder.

He laughed.

“Well,” he said. “Has he said anything to you? Today?”

“Said anything?” I asked, looking at him through my fingers before dropping them to grab my drink, warm in my hands.

“Yea, like, texted you.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t checked my phone since Niall’d woken me. I pulled it out, now, opened it with a press of my thumb.

“He did,” I breathed.

“What’d he say, then?”

 _good seeing you last night_ , he’d written, followed by a smiley. My breath caught in my chest.

“He said it was good seeing me.”

“That doesn’t sound like something someone who was particularly bothered would say to the person who’d drunkenly come on to them.”

“Niall!”

“Who’s drunkenly coming on to Harry?” a voice asked, gripping my shoulder.

I jumped about a mile, then turned to see Liam grinning down at me.

My stomach sank the mile right back down.

“Liam,” Niall said, his voice cracking so unsubtly I could strangle him, “Hey. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fancy, fancy,” Liam said. “I’ll just–” he motioned to the front counter, then shot us a grin. “Be right back.”

We nodded dumbly as he walked away.

“I am the worst person alive,” I whispered, attempting to hide my entire face behind my mug.

“You are not the worst person alive,” Niall said.

I closed my eyes and swallowed.

“I have an idea,” Niall said.

“No,” I said. “Niall, no.”

“It’s good, trust me.”

“Niall–”

“Trust me.”

“I do not trust you.”

“Your phone’s buzzed.”

My head shot down to look at my phone. Niall laughed. I had no new texts. My cheeks heated.

“Oh, yes,” Niall said. “You need me.”

I hid behind my mug again.

When Liam rejoined us, Niall beamed. Oh, no, I most definitely should have protested further. I gave him a pleading look, but he ignored me.

“Liam,” he said.

“Nialler,” Liam said, still grinning.

“I’ve had an idea.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I think, tomorrow, we should all go out to London. Do some proper shopping since we didn’t on Boxing Day. You gays love shopping, don’t you?”

“Niall,” Liam said. “Do you _try_ to be as offensive as possible?”

Niall beamed. “And I was thinking,” he went on, “we should invite Louis.”

Liam’s smile dropped.

“If that’s alright with you,” Niall added.

“Um,” Liam said.

“It’s just,” Niall rushed on, “he was at my party last night, and he was just sorta, you know, sitting by himself most of the night. I think he’s lonely. I mean, the three of us were kind of his closest mates while you– you know, before you two…” he trailed off, and the air was thick with awkwardness.

“Anyway,” he said. “I just think it’d be nice to have him out with us. Things didn’t end too badly between you two, anyway, right?”

Neither Liam nor I said anything. That wasn’t quite right.

“And you’ve got a new lady, now. So there’s no hard feelings or like… leftover stuff. Between you two.” Niall glanced at me at that, and I felt my face turn bright red and focused my gaze on the table.

“Yea,” Liam said, to my astonishment. “You’re right. I’m happy with Sophia. Louis’s a good guy. I didn’t really think about how he might be lonely… you know. Without us.”

“It’s settled, then,” Niall said, practically bouncing.

“Sure,” Liam shrugged. “Why not?”

I fought not to gape at him, but when he glanced over at me, I just took a sip of my coffee and gave him a little smile.

*

“Hey, Niall,” I said into the phone as I peered into the fridge.

“Louis,” Niall said, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come to London with me and the lads.”

“That sounds great,” I said, smiling as I selected some leftover mash and pulled out a plate from the cupboard beside. “Which lads?”

“Uh, Liam.”

I rose my eyebrows and cleared my throat. “Uh, Ni–”

“And Harry,” he added.

My eyes widened enormously and I almost dropped the container of mash onto the tile. We were both silent for a moment, and then I said, as quickly as I could so I wouldn’t think better of it, “Sure, that sounds fine.”

“Great!” Niall cheered. “I’ll pick you up at half-past, then.”

“Half-past what?”

“Noon.”

“Right. Ok.”

“See you then?”

“Yea.”

Niall hung up, and I stared at the container of mash before me, sort of unable to move.

*

He was wearing a jean jacket, again, and a backwards cap. He looked right at me as he walked out his front door, towards Niall’s car, and then turned his gaze hurriedly toward Niall. “Hey,” he said.

I saw Liam stiffen in the passenger seat as he climbed in the back with me.

“Welcome, Louis,” Niall said. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, mate,” Louis said. He cleared his throat, “Liam, good to see you.”

“Innit,” Liam mumbled.

He turned to me and nodded briefly. “Harry.”

“Hi,” I said.

He blushed.

He _blushed_.

I turned my gaze to Niall’s headrest as we started off.

Niall immediately went off about the mix he’d put on, giving us a brief summary of the history of every band and the meaning behind their lyrics. Liam laughed heartily at him and Louis made pointed jabs at his selections every now and then. Liam laughed at those, too, gradually loosening until the banter that passed between the two of them seemed no less friendly than a couple of old men chuckling over pints. They made sense as friends. Watching them I was baffled that they’d ever dated. It didn’t suit them.

Maybe they’d changed since then, into people who didn’t make sense together.

Or maybe it’d never been quite right.

Louis glanced at me. He touched his hair, and I nearly choked on air, turning my gaze quickly out the window so he couldn’t see my cheeks heat up.

We ended up stopping at an expensive apartment complex to pick up Sophia, Liam’s new girl. I didn’t know she lived in London, but the moment she got into the car, I was glad for her presence.

Liam became positively giddy, and the last of any uncomfortableness between him and Louis vanished, so the two of them, Sophia, and Niall were abruptly all carrying on loudly and joyously, like friends who’d known each other all their lives. I did my best to pitch in, but the bizarreness of the situation kept striking me, and the reality of the lack of tension with Liam and Louis, too, so, as Louis had to scoot to the middle seat to allow for Sophia to join us, I kept having to stop myself from reaching out to touch Louis’s little gesticulating hands.

*

I followed Liam into a thrift store Sophia liked.

It was all coming back to me now, how it’d been before we started dating. Liam and I had worked together bagging groceries before he had to quit because it was cutting into his football schedule. He’d asked me out on his last day. I had a feeling, at the time, that he did it then because he was afraid he wouldn’t have another chance.

We’d been good, as friends. It worked between us, we got along, making jokes and playing pranks and talking too loud over the heads of customers between us. I’d forgotten how much I liked him as a friend when all I could associate him with was the boyfriend I’d never wanted, the boyfriend I let down.  
It felt right now, us mucking about, laughing and yelling across the door, his arm around his girl’s waist. This was the way it was meant to be.  
I glanced around to find Harry, and when I did, his eyes were on me. I felt heat under every inch of my skin, and I licked my lips. He walked over toward me.

“That’d suit you,” he said, tipping his head forward. I looked down at the hat in my hands and laughed.

“I was getting it for Sophia,” I said.

He shrugged one shoulder.

I smirked and put it on, tipping the big, floppy thing forward, so I could peak out from under it crookedly, with only one eye showing. “Why, hello,” I said.

“Hello there,” Harry said, his tone suggestive. I laughed and took the hat off, placing it on his head.

“Suits _you_ ,” I said, surprised at how true it was. It worked on him. I laughed and shook my head.

He pursed his lips and then broke out in a grin. “Maybe I’ll buy it,” he said.

“Yea?”

He shrugged one shoulder and strolled away from me, the hat still on.

I chewed on my lower lip to keep from smiling.

*

The day went by quickly, Niall constantly running up ahead of us all, Liam and Sophia turned in towards each other, whispering sweet nothings, so Lou and I were forced– albeit fairly willingly– into being with only each other’s company most of the time. Louis started about his old ways, teasing me and rustling my hair and, after a while, poking me in the sides, so I had to dance away from him, giggling and protesting. As we were walking side by side, I felt the space between our hands like a little stream, so easy to cross, but still there, still a barrier. When we piled back into the car some hour later, his hand brushed mine as we buckled in. 

We sat in silence while the others sang along to the radio, a Halsey song, with tired voices. It started raining, and looking out at the rain, I leaned my head back agains the headrest and then, almost without thinking, shifted so it rested on Louis’s shoulder, my back flush with his arm, his side. He stiffened for a moment and then pulled his arm out from under me to balance on the back of the seat, his hand tangling in my hair.  
I closed my eyes, happy, and after a while, I fell asleep.

*

Harry texted me the moment the front door shut behind me.

It was a selfie in the big hat, and I laughed, my chest feeling warm and huge, like the hearths you’d see in giant old mansions. 

The picture reminded me of the last text he’d sent me during the summer, and I scrolled up in my texts until I saw the picture. Chewing on my lower lip, I found myself smiling at the phone.

 _adorable_ , I wrote back.

A minute passed, and I felt my cheeks redden and was hugely worried I’d gone too far, misread some signals, or crossed some boundaries. Then my phone buzzed. He sent me the see-no-evil monkey emoji.

I grinned.

I didn't see him again over the next couple of days, but we texted near constantly, he sending me selfie after selfie and me ranting about classes, professors, the people on my hall. 

He said he remembered I liked to sing, wanted to know if I’d joined a choir of a band or anything.

 _as I recall,_ you _were the more talented of the two of us as far as singing goes_

He sent me an appalled selfie– apparently emojis didn’t cover it anymore– and I laughed out loud and fought not to hug my phone to my chest like a crush-crazed secondary schooler. 

I didn’t respond for a moment, sleepily glancing at the TV where the little ones were watching _Sleeping Beauty._ Then my phone buzzed again, and I looked down to see, 

_you have new years eve plans?_

I was buzzing with excitement as I typed back, _not that I know of_

_nialls trying to pull me to a party. b more keen to actually go if u were gonna be there_

I stared at the text for a moment, my chest feeling like a cuckoo clock with broken doors where the bird was meant to jump out. 

_ill be there,_ I replied.

Then, a moment later, _where is it?_

*

The house was huge and unfamiliar, but it was warm and smelled surprisingly good for the amount of people stuffed inside, pressed up against the walls and the furniture and each other. Niall disappeared from my side almost immediately, but Liam followed along behind me as I inched toward an opening on a soft-looking couch.

We talked loudly to be heard over the music and after a few minutes Niall popped up out of nowhere and handed us drinks, falling into my lap and shouting into my ear something I couldn't understand because of the speed, not the volume. I laughed and shoved him off, and he fell to the floor, landing on several pairs of feet and laughing as some people hoisted him up by his shoulders and started chanting his name. I was just received they didn’t lift him up to crowd surf.

Shaking my head, I turned to Liam. He was staring at the doorway. I turned to see what he was watching, and spotted Louis there, the cold air coming in behind him before he clicked the front door shut and turned, gazing around, searching.

I stood involuntarily, and his eyes locked on mine. He smiled.

“Are you,” Liam said, and our eye contact was broken as I glanced down at Liam. “Are you… into him, Harry?”

“What?” I asked, my heart pounding loud and fast in my chest at the question. It was loud in here. Maybe I’d misheard him.

He stared at me for a moment. “It’s fine if you are,” he said. He smiled at me. “It’s mutual, you know.”

“What?” I said again.

“Never thought of myself as a matchmaker,” he said, more quietly, more to himself, so I could barely make out the words. “But I–” and the rest I couldn’t understand.

I stared at him, unmoving. He looked up at me after a moment and waved me off. “Go on, then,” he said.

I nearly leapt over the couch.

*

“Hi,” Harry said breathlessly.

“Hi,” I said, smiling so wide it’d hurt if it I kept it up for long.

“Um,” he said. “You want a drink?”

“Is there bubbly?” I asked.

“Would it be a New Year’s party if there wasn’t?”

I grinned. He turned, then turned back for a moment, meeting my eyes with an expression like he was deliberating, before grabbing my hand to pull me forward.

I could have melted into the floor.

It was already an hour to midnight when I arrived, and the party, loud and crowded and hot, only got louder and more crowded and hotter as the minutes ticked by and the new year snuck up on us. Harry and I were smashed into a corner, yelling into each other’s ears and laughing either at actual jokes we managed to catch or at our inability to understand one another over the pressing noise. It was so good. He let go of my hand to play with my shirt and the loops on my trousers, and I tangled my fingers in his curls with the hand that wasn’t holding a red Solo cup of Martinelli’s. He smelled like powdered sugar, turning away from me over and over to grab biscuits from a messy snack table. The white sugar got all over his shirt and his mouth and his hands and his hair, so he looked like he’d just stepped in from the snow. 

“You look like a snow angel,” I yelled.

He smiled wide and didn’t ask what I meant. There was no use and no need to explain anything, just then. Everything was as it was and it was all good.

We quipped about the music selection and about the outfits some of our peers sported and the decisions some of our drunker peers were making. Someone yelled that it was ten minutes ’til midnight. Harry turned to the snack table and I gripped his hips to steady him as he leaned far forward to grab another cup and a bottle of the bubbly. 

Wobbling, he half-righted himself and half let me pull him up and into me. We stayed like that for a moment, his back against my chest and his hair in my face, then he spun around. He refilled my cup and filled one for himself, then set the bottle down.

We stood smiling at each other and nodding along to the music, this song too loud to talk over, and the next as well, until someone turned the music down to call out, “Two minutes ’til midnight!”

“Haz,” I said.

“Lou,” he said.

“Thank you for wishing me happy birthday.”

He blushed, bright enough that even in the dim lighting and with his sweaty hair clinging to his cheeks, I could see it and wanted to lick it off and into my mouth like frosting off a fairy cake.

“You’re welcome,” he said, quiet so I could only read it on his lips. 

Someone started to count down from sixty seconds.

“It was you,” I said.

“What was me?” he asked, unfaltering.

“Why I broke it off with Liam. It was you.”

He stared at me as the voices got louder, more people joining in as the seconds drew closer to midnight.

“I hoped so,” he said.

“ _Twenty_!” they screamed.

I reached over him to set my cup down on the snack table.

“We’re meant to cheers,” he whispered. I don’t know how I heard it.

I took his cup, too, and set it down.

“ _Ten!_ ”  
I put my hands on his waist.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and leaned in to me. 

I leaned into him as _five_ reverberated in my ear drums.

“ _Four_ ,” he whispered, his mouth close enough to mine that I felt the word even if I couldn't hear it.

I grinned wide around _three_.

 _Two_ , we all sang.

The one was lost in the screams of “happy new year” and the taste of powdered sugar as Harry’s mouth opened against mine.

He gripped me and I gripped him and his hands moved up and into my hair and mine tightened into the soft skin of his hips. I was hot and he was soft and he bit my bottom lip and I licked the back of his upper lip and he breathed heavy into me as I breathed heavy into him. He was so sweet. I was so warm and happy and I could feel his smile as he could feel mine and this would be a year to beat, I could tell already.

He grinned at me when we slipped apart to catch our breath. “Happy New Year’s.”


End file.
